A fowl is missing from the next village. That night they heard a shriek, A snap, retreating feet and silence. Jòná says “who cares? It is not my fowl”.
Then a goat was stolen six streets away We found clean bones and spices And remorseful cooking devices But there was no goat. Jòná says “who cares? It is not my goat”.
Then some girls were stolen From across the street While still suckling On their mothers’ teats The men were in no hurry, They waited for dinner Stole the girls and the cutlery. Jòná says “who cares? It is not my cutlery”.
The moon and stars are shy tonight As hefty men leap over the fence. We hear heavy footfalls outside the wall Then a noise on the roof Jòná whimpers, “Could that be my roof?” Soon we hear a knock, a very loud one On the centre of Jòná’s door.